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As I begin my fourth and final year at the prestigious University of Virginia (thank God), I realize I find myself feeling a combination of three ways:
- Excited
- Relieved
- Terrified
I’m excited because I'm leaving. I’m relieved because I’m leaving. And I am terrified because… I have to leave.
From a very young age my father instilled in me a love of cooking. Over the years he tried to teach me the culinary basics: the art of pairing flavors, the five mother sauces of French cuisine, the importance of making sure meat remains tender, and the fact that if you ask any Italian chef they will downright condemn putting cheese on seafood.
In fifth grade, as I sat at a lunch table eating with my classmates, a boy at the table over called me “freakishly tall.” When I reached seventh grade, I towered over even my basketball teammates. As a freshman in high school, I was frequently asked by adults what year I was in college. Suffice it to say, I’ve always been tall.
“In our society, those who are educated sit on chairs and those who aren’t sit on the floor.”
The process of “becoming” is not linear, or isolated, or even Insta-worthy.
This is it, Iris’s last issue for the 2018-2019 school year, and we could not have been happier to have spent the last several months sharing our thoughts, ideas, and passions with the Iris readership.
I keep a list of things I want in the notes app on my phone (right below my grocery list and right above late-night ruminations on the failures of my life).
Posting a picture to Instagram is an event. The right filter must be found, a witty caption conjured. As likes accumulate, it is as if each screen tap is a reflection on you as a person. Not just the way you look, but also how you are perceived by others.
As my final semester as an undergraduate college student winds down, and as my time as an intern for Iris comes to an end, I’ve been taking time to reflect on the last four years.
I love Spring as much as the next person. I love when it gets warmer and the days get longer. I love retiring my parka for a few months and opting for a lighter jacket that’s not nearly as heavy. I love that my car isn’t buried in the snow, and that my seasonal affective disorder has taken a hiatus.
In a few short months, after years and years of stress, I will be graduating from college. I know, I’m not supposed to say ‘graduating’ because I go to UVA and we like to be elitist and use exclusionary language, and learning is supposed to be forever, but I’m sorry TJ.